THE MORNING MEDITATIONS OFFRERE HYACINTHUS

THE MORNING MEDITATIONS OFFRERE HYACINTHUS

So he is dead and damned and all is well.So fare all traitors to the church and God!Cursed and cast out with candle, book and bell,And thrust to rot beneath unhallowed sod.The mouth that sounded once Saint Mary’s nameHe smirched and stained with scarlet wine of lust;Therefore is he become a thing of shame,Anathema and alien to the just.We prayed within the cloister side by side,He chose the world, wise in his own conceit;I kept our Blessed Lady for my bride,To paths of sin he set his wayward feet.And she is dead, too. Lies with him, they say?Aye, lies with him—they are together still—That golden girl I saw one summer dayTending her kine upon the pasture hill.God, God, is not my blood like his blood red?God, God, could I not see that she was fair?Did I not close my eyes and bow my head,And purge my soul with fasting and with prayer?God, see my flesh with scourgings cut and scarred!God, see my frame with fasting weak and thin!God, see my face with tears and sorrow marred!God, see my soul burnt white and clean of sin!Tempted I was like him, but did not yield.Outcast is he and damned and spit upon.Elect am I and with thine own sign sealed,Washed white and pure in blood of Christ thy Son.And yet, and yet—Ah, God, that dream last night!When I had prayed before Thy blessed shrine,And sought to rest a while before the lightShould call me to new services of Thine.Then as I slept it seemed I was with TheeIn Heaven, and I looked down into Hell,That I the cursed souls in pain might seeAnd be more glad that I had served Thee well.I saw the place with blood-red flames alight,I saw the damned and heard their shrieks and groans,And then there burst upon my eyes a sightThat turned to lead the marrow in my bones.There in his arms her soft white body lay;Shielded by him she kissed his mouth and smiled.Round them the flames kept their unheeded sway.Even to Hell Love made them reconciled.It’s time for Mass. God bless the newborn day!How very fair it is, and sweet and still—Down yonder lane she used to make her wayTo tend her kine upon the pasture hill.

So he is dead and damned and all is well.So fare all traitors to the church and God!Cursed and cast out with candle, book and bell,And thrust to rot beneath unhallowed sod.The mouth that sounded once Saint Mary’s nameHe smirched and stained with scarlet wine of lust;Therefore is he become a thing of shame,Anathema and alien to the just.We prayed within the cloister side by side,He chose the world, wise in his own conceit;I kept our Blessed Lady for my bride,To paths of sin he set his wayward feet.And she is dead, too. Lies with him, they say?Aye, lies with him—they are together still—That golden girl I saw one summer dayTending her kine upon the pasture hill.God, God, is not my blood like his blood red?God, God, could I not see that she was fair?Did I not close my eyes and bow my head,And purge my soul with fasting and with prayer?God, see my flesh with scourgings cut and scarred!God, see my frame with fasting weak and thin!God, see my face with tears and sorrow marred!God, see my soul burnt white and clean of sin!Tempted I was like him, but did not yield.Outcast is he and damned and spit upon.Elect am I and with thine own sign sealed,Washed white and pure in blood of Christ thy Son.And yet, and yet—Ah, God, that dream last night!When I had prayed before Thy blessed shrine,And sought to rest a while before the lightShould call me to new services of Thine.Then as I slept it seemed I was with TheeIn Heaven, and I looked down into Hell,That I the cursed souls in pain might seeAnd be more glad that I had served Thee well.I saw the place with blood-red flames alight,I saw the damned and heard their shrieks and groans,And then there burst upon my eyes a sightThat turned to lead the marrow in my bones.There in his arms her soft white body lay;Shielded by him she kissed his mouth and smiled.Round them the flames kept their unheeded sway.Even to Hell Love made them reconciled.It’s time for Mass. God bless the newborn day!How very fair it is, and sweet and still—Down yonder lane she used to make her wayTo tend her kine upon the pasture hill.

So he is dead and damned and all is well.So fare all traitors to the church and God!Cursed and cast out with candle, book and bell,And thrust to rot beneath unhallowed sod.

So he is dead and damned and all is well.

So fare all traitors to the church and God!

Cursed and cast out with candle, book and bell,

And thrust to rot beneath unhallowed sod.

The mouth that sounded once Saint Mary’s nameHe smirched and stained with scarlet wine of lust;Therefore is he become a thing of shame,Anathema and alien to the just.

The mouth that sounded once Saint Mary’s name

He smirched and stained with scarlet wine of lust;

Therefore is he become a thing of shame,

Anathema and alien to the just.

We prayed within the cloister side by side,He chose the world, wise in his own conceit;I kept our Blessed Lady for my bride,To paths of sin he set his wayward feet.

We prayed within the cloister side by side,

He chose the world, wise in his own conceit;

I kept our Blessed Lady for my bride,

To paths of sin he set his wayward feet.

And she is dead, too. Lies with him, they say?Aye, lies with him—they are together still—That golden girl I saw one summer dayTending her kine upon the pasture hill.

And she is dead, too. Lies with him, they say?

Aye, lies with him—they are together still—

That golden girl I saw one summer day

Tending her kine upon the pasture hill.

God, God, is not my blood like his blood red?God, God, could I not see that she was fair?Did I not close my eyes and bow my head,And purge my soul with fasting and with prayer?

God, God, is not my blood like his blood red?

God, God, could I not see that she was fair?

Did I not close my eyes and bow my head,

And purge my soul with fasting and with prayer?

God, see my flesh with scourgings cut and scarred!God, see my frame with fasting weak and thin!God, see my face with tears and sorrow marred!God, see my soul burnt white and clean of sin!

God, see my flesh with scourgings cut and scarred!

God, see my frame with fasting weak and thin!

God, see my face with tears and sorrow marred!

God, see my soul burnt white and clean of sin!

Tempted I was like him, but did not yield.Outcast is he and damned and spit upon.Elect am I and with thine own sign sealed,Washed white and pure in blood of Christ thy Son.

Tempted I was like him, but did not yield.

Outcast is he and damned and spit upon.

Elect am I and with thine own sign sealed,

Washed white and pure in blood of Christ thy Son.

And yet, and yet—Ah, God, that dream last night!When I had prayed before Thy blessed shrine,And sought to rest a while before the lightShould call me to new services of Thine.

And yet, and yet—Ah, God, that dream last night!

When I had prayed before Thy blessed shrine,

And sought to rest a while before the light

Should call me to new services of Thine.

Then as I slept it seemed I was with TheeIn Heaven, and I looked down into Hell,That I the cursed souls in pain might seeAnd be more glad that I had served Thee well.

Then as I slept it seemed I was with Thee

In Heaven, and I looked down into Hell,

That I the cursed souls in pain might see

And be more glad that I had served Thee well.

I saw the place with blood-red flames alight,I saw the damned and heard their shrieks and groans,And then there burst upon my eyes a sightThat turned to lead the marrow in my bones.

I saw the place with blood-red flames alight,

I saw the damned and heard their shrieks and groans,

And then there burst upon my eyes a sight

That turned to lead the marrow in my bones.

There in his arms her soft white body lay;Shielded by him she kissed his mouth and smiled.Round them the flames kept their unheeded sway.Even to Hell Love made them reconciled.

There in his arms her soft white body lay;

Shielded by him she kissed his mouth and smiled.

Round them the flames kept their unheeded sway.

Even to Hell Love made them reconciled.

It’s time for Mass. God bless the newborn day!How very fair it is, and sweet and still—Down yonder lane she used to make her wayTo tend her kine upon the pasture hill.

It’s time for Mass. God bless the newborn day!

How very fair it is, and sweet and still—

Down yonder lane she used to make her way

To tend her kine upon the pasture hill.


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